Bits and Pieces
by NKfloofiepoof
Summary: Basically, just a bunch of snippets I've written. See the "general author's note" at the beginning for a better explanation.
1. Reminiscing

**General A/N**: This file is just going to be random snippets I've written. Pretty much nothing will be finished, so don't even get your hopes up. I just pretty much got tired of seeing this snippets file on my computer and not being able to show anyone. Just about anything can happen in these snips. There may be violence, swearing, or hints of yaoi. Most will probably be AUs (alternate universes) such as this first one. Feel free to e-mail me if you want to know more about any snippet. Also, I'm trying to get back into the full groove of writing again (I seriously have written _nothing_ since I finished _Electrical Communication_), so if you have a decent Rockman idea (NO Rockman X crap), comment or e-mail me with it, and I _might_ attempt snipping it. You'll have to be more specific than "OMG wr1te something bout Kwik and Shado!!1" though. Give me a situation, characters involved, what's going on, and possibly what's happened previously. What's going to happen next? Yadda yadda. I don't promise I'll do every idea sent my way, but I'll definitely consider the good ones. No smut though. I cannot write smut - why else would I have so obviously chickened out of the Forte/Rock scene in EC? Light romance, I can do. Oh, and if you want boy interaction, TELL me if you like yaoi or not. I don't want to write a scene with Elec and Metal being all gushy and have you barf in my lap because you didn't want 'em like that!

**Story-Related A/N**: You can tell around the end where I just stopped caring about details and just wanted to get it out of my frigging head. Oh, thou ill-formed offspring of my feeble brain... (kudos if you can figure out where I ripped that from)  


The damp cloth was moved carefully over metal of varying shades of blue, washing away dust which had gathered and was beginning to layer upon the stationary form. Cords which snaked out of the form's back were carefully cleaned and checked for charring and corrosion but were not removed -- removal would kill the occupant of the metal chair who was connected by the cables to a computer nearby. The cloth was removed from its back and ghosted over his chest and stomach, the touch quick but thorough. It smoothed over pale, artificial skin and the mass of circuitry and cables which formed a headset, hiding eyes which had not seen the outside world in a year.

[It's raining, Doc.]

Dr. Wily nodded, having heard the faint tinging of rainfall against the metal walls of the fortress earlier. Thunder was just barely audible through the thick walls as it rumbled through the heavens, and no lightning could be seen from the room which had no windows. The scientist continued cleaning the mechanical body before him, washing away dust from armored thighs and large boots. It was a weekly chore -- the body did not collect enough dust to warrant daily cleaning. It was tedious, but it gave him something to do other than mentally kick himself and wonder for hours why this had happened.

"Have you finished your scan of the fortress' systems yet?" Dr. Wily asked the air and glanced briefly at the nearby computer as he awaited a reply.

White words scrawled across the black screen in answer, the previous statement erased. [Yeah. A cannon on Level C is giving me error messages, but you can fix it later. I'm also keeping an eye on Level F - Block 25's spike pit -- one of the platforms is waving around a little. Want me to run a maintenance check on it?]

"Yes," the scientist replied distractedly as he carefully maneuvered the cloth underneath tight bands secured over the robot's wrists. "It probably just needs recalibrating, and you can handle that." The same was done for the restraints on the robot's ankles.

[Alright,] the computer answered and made a quiet _ding_ of acknowledgement.

Dr. Wily glanced at the computer then back at the robot before him, sighing quietly. After a year, he had nearly forgotten what it was like to actually hear its voice, nearly forgotten what its voice sounded like. There was no sense dwelling upon the past, but he often thought about how things would have progressed had he finally won the wars -- had he and his robots finally been able to defeat Dr. Light and Rock and reign over the humans.

Well, for one, _this_ certainly would not have happened. He would not be alone in his fortress with a single, basically comatose robot permanently connected to one of his computers. If he had won the wars, he would have all of his robots with him, all of his Robot Masters milling about the fortress or celebrating their hard-earned vicotry. They would be walking in and out of the control room, reporting malfunctions they had discovered in the defensive system or complaining about the food replicators acting as if they, as Quick had so eloquently put it, "had been shot at and missed and shit at and hit".

However, that was not the case. Dozens of his robots were dead, the rest missing for the past year. He knew not exactly where most of them were, but he knew they could only be in one of three situations: dead, captured, or somehow managing to avoid detection by the other humans. As much as he hated to admit it, he was sure most of them were dead.

He sighed again and resumed cleaning the body before him. This robot's situation was entirely his fault -- the robot whose mind was trapped outside of its body. He was still not quite sure how it had happened, none of it. He knew not _how_ it happened, only that it had.

After Dr. Wily's last defeat at the hands of Rock, the human government decided to take matters into their own hands -- after seven years of nearly non-stop battle, Rock and Dr. Light had still not succeeded in finally defeating the mad scientist, and the humans grew tired of waiting. Government organizations around the world secretly congregated to agree upon what would be done, plotting the seizure of and experimentation upon Dr. Wily's creations. With the crumbling of the final Skull Fortress, they made their move.

As the citadel collapsed and burned around the Robot Masters, tanks and high-powered artillery fired from heavily armored human soldiers rained their ammunition down upon the fleeing Robot Masters. Bombs were thrown from seemingly empty crevices, and fire raged around the surprised and angry androids. Dr. Wily silently commended them for fighting back as well as they did -- many died fighting in that attack, refusing to allow themselves to be captured by the humans, inferior creatures.

From his vantage point inside his saucer high in the clouds, he saw Metal counter bullets with his serrated blades, throwing them in every direction and leaping upon humans unfortunate enough to venture too close. He managed to sever the heads of three soldiers before a tank's aim proved true when it centered its sights on his chest. Aided by Hard, Guts was able to tear the treds straight from one tank's wheels, and Punk cut the turret away to use it as a club against two soldiers before all three androids met their defeat by rockets launched from the clouds. Shade and Tengu were shot from the sky as they attempted to escape into the clouds.

Dozens of other Robot Masters suffered similar fates, but many were captured. Dr. Wily could still remember Gospel's enraged howl as a metallic rope caught one of his paws and sent him to the ground, followed by another around his neck, and the nooses surged electricity through his body, shocking his systems to the point of temporary shut down for self repairs. Elec was detained in a similar fashion as was Slash. Few succeeded in escaping the humans' wrath, and those who did were never seen by their creator again.

Messages were sent around the world that the war was finally over, but despite that, the united governments did not stop at just Dr. Wily's robots. All robots were considered dangerous, treated as weapons which had no use but to kill. Dr. Light's lab was attacked next, and Rock was the only survivor, following the Robot Masters into hiding as he was hunted by the humans. Dr. Wily knew not what happened to Blues, but he suspected he was either dead or captured as well. Dr. Wily himself was able to retreat to one of his older fortresses and hide in it until now.

He shook his head to tear himself from the memories. That was in the past -- all which mattered now was surviving and making sure the humans did not find them. He finished cleaning the android body and stood, glancing over it quietly. It was the one robot he had been in contact with since the massacre, and now it was trapped outside its body by an accident in an experiment.

In an attempt to hack into one government facility's surveillance system and determine where some of the surviving Robot Masters were being kept, Dr. Wily had put together a headset which sent the android's mind into the computer system. Since robots and computers were not so different from each other, the experiment went smoothly at first, enabling the android's mind to slide easily through the fortress' network. However, when it ventured outside and made its way into the government facility's systems, something went wrong -- something which still baffled Dr. Wily a year later.

Cables sparked, and the monitor flickered, and the android jerked in its bonds where it was connected to the computer. It let out a shriek of agony before it fell still, breathing slowing as the computer's monitor attempted to switch back on. From then on, the robot's mind had been trapped in the network, enabling it to dart back and forth between facilities' surveillance systems and the fortress' defense networks. It was the ultimate spying tool, but it had come with a price -- the body could not be unhooked from the console. If it was, it would die without a mind, and Dr. Wily was not sure what would happen to the mind itself.

_All this trouble just because we wanted to find everyone,_ he mentally sighed, folding the cloth which had long lost its moisture. He looked up when the screen came to life again and the android's mind "spoke" to him.

[I fixed it, Doc. You were right; it just needed a little recalibrating in its balance systems. Is there anything else you want me to do?]

Dr. Wily shook his head as he answered, "No, that should do for now. I'll fix that malfunctioning cannon tomorrow -- I want to get some sleep. You know the drill -- set off the alarms if anything suspicious happens."

[Alright. Good night, Doc.]

"Good night, Rock."

-- _(untitled)_


	2. The Fall of Glast Heim

﻿ 

This is from a stupid Ragnarok Online/Rockman crossover idea I had - the fall of Glast Heim. It's never clarified in RO exactly what happened there, but it's obvious something did- it used to be a whole city but is now overrun by demons and the undead. This is my on-crack interpretation of it.

* * *

Snow drifted silently from dark clouds made darker by the concealed night sky. The snow flitted on strong winds, stirring flakes of snow to form clumps which fell to the ground at a faster rate. It floated down through the darkness, spiraling in lazy circles over the white landscape below until it was abruptly evaporated by the searing heat rising from tongues of flame lashing up into the dark heavens. Red struck out at white angrily before drifting back down to the bowels of the fire cradled among stone. Walls of stone remained standing despite the raging inferno within, fiery equine creatures braying from the highest towers and cackling down into the flames before diving down inside. Blood was dried rapidly by the fires, crusting and staining the walls and floors; beyond the horror, tapestries disintegrated into ash, and skin and tissue bubbled on the bodies of dead soldiers, their armor blackened by soot.

"This way!" the captain of the guard hissed as quietly as he could over the roar of the flames, sweat streaming down his face and dripping from raven-colored hair. His armor was slick with the blood of the creatures invading the castle, torn in some places where a ghostly knight's sword had found its target. A second knight quickly rounded the corner followed by a third and then a man in scorched robes, none in any better condition than the captain. "Crash, Ballade," the captain continued breathlessly. "Hurry to the lift with the king – I'll watch our backs!" He dared to glance back down the previous corridor before following his comrades.

The dark, gaping cavity before them was actually a comforting sight – as far as they knew, none of the invaders had made it this far. The king was the first through the massive doorway followed by his two bodyguards then, finally, the captain. As soon as all four stepped onto an unsteady platform, the king threw a lever at the far end, and with a lurch and the grinding of old gears, the platform descended into darkness away from the red light of the blaze engulfing the castle.

"I'm exhausted!" King Ulrich Stockholm gasped, leaning forward and resting his hands on his knees as he panted, "Can't we slow down?"

"There's nothing we can do as long as we're in the dark about their intentions," Captain Kouma stated as he checked his damaged crusader armor to assure himself that none of the blood coating the metal was his own, "Our duty is to protect the king – and in order to do that, we have to flee the castle as quickly as possible." He looked upwards to the fading red blaze. "What in hell could they want? Attacking in the middle of the night like this..."

King Stockholm snapped in response as he tore charred pieces of fabric free from his once white robes, "And _I_ am the king now that my brother has fallen – with or without a crown. Blast it all!"

The taller knight snorted and spat onto the floor as he placed his hands on his hips and flipped a fringe of sweaty black hair out of his face. "Then, find your own way out if you're going to be stupid about it!"

"Hold your tongue, Ballade! We are in the presence of the new king!" Kouma snarled at his subordinate; at this, Ballade spat again.

The third knight ignored them, watching the last light of the blaze disappear above them. He muttered mostly to himself, "A surprise attack in the middle of the blizzard. Captain." He turned to his superior knight, "Do you think they might be after the dragon?"

Kouma frowned at the wisdom of the observation, a chill of dread spreading through his overheated body. "The dragon...it's a possibility. Do you think it's worth something to them, Crash?"

King Stockholm was even more outraged by this, sputtering for a moment before forming coherent words. "My dragon? They're after my dragon?" he stammered, his face assuming an interesting color as he paled from fear and flushed with rage at the same time. "I won't let them have it! There's no telling what they'll do with it!"

Crash answered his captain, ignoring the king's outburst, "It's a possibility we'll have to live with – I don't know what they may want it for, but if it means letting us live..." He let his statement trail off as the platform shuddered and ground noisily to a halt, and the king's infuriated glare shifted from the knight to the pathway before them. The way was straight without any branching hallways or rooms, and it was eerily quiet compared to the roaring inferno and noisy elevator they had just left. Their steps echoed loudly, fraying already unstable nerves with the constant _clink_ing of the knights' metal boots and dull tapping of the king's worn shoes.

Time dragged out to a stressful eternity as they made their way carefully down the corridor, keeping their steps slow and steady. Ballade and Crash watched the shadows nervously while Kouma kept his attention on their backs, his sword held tightly in both hands.

"Us first," Crash hissed as he and Ballade both unsheathed their swords and dove into the chamber at the end of the corridor, eyes darting to each corner of the room and to the two doorways on either side. King Stockholm and Kouma stayed in the main doorway until their comrades signaled with a whistle that the room was clear.

King Stockholm immediately ran to the opposite side of the room and leaned against wrought iron railing, sighing in relief when he saw his prize still in its place in a rocky area carved straight out of the ground. The bleached white bones were still and silent where they rested in the earth, and they seemed to emit a soft, eerie light of their own. The skull was easily three times taller than the tallest knight, Ballade, and barely fit inside its alcove, its bones curled in on itself. It skull stared emptily up at the humans, tilted so its empty eye socket watched them directly, and its decayed, leathery wings were still held up, spread and secured by steel chains crafted by the most skilled blacksmiths in the kingdom. Just being in the presence of the skeleton sent a chill down the knights' spines, a chill which was not fueled by a breeze from the back gates of the castle just down the next hallway.

"Good, it's still safe," the king said softly as he gripped the railing tightly, "Glast Heim Knights, you must protect it!"

"Protect it?" Ballade snapped and shot King Stockholm a glare. He pointed to the bones with his sword, outraged at the order. "You expect us to protect that _thing_ when giving it over may be the only way we'll be able to survive this? In case you haven't noticed, we're the only ones left, so don't you dare assume that I'm going to throw my life away for a pile of rot!"

"_Ballade_!" Kouma reprimanded.

"This is no ordinary 'pile of rot', knight!" the king snarled in response, "My dragon is very important to those invading beasts."

"All the more reason to get the hell out of this room and run for it."

"Shh!" Crash suddenly hissed, silence falling over the room immediately. Grips on sword hilts were tightened painfully upon hearing scraping, unsteady steps from the hallway leading to the outside. Kouma quickly positioned himself out of sight next to the doorway, his sword held up to strike.

"It's me," came a soft voice, recognized by all present. Their guard was immediately dropped when their fellow fighter limped into the chamber, his scarlet hair almost the same shade as the blood staining his wounded thigh. His dyed brown clothes were torn and clawed open in much the same way as Kouma's armor, and it was all he could do to keep his sword from dragging on the floor from fatigue.

"Quick!" Ballade was the first to vacate the king's side to help the injured high swordsman, sheathing his sword so he could carefully take the other's arm. "Your leg – what happened?"

Quick laughed in spite of his exhaustion, "Oh, now I'm holding you back?" He tried to sound less anxious than he really was. His smile faded when he looked from Ballade to the others present, his heart sinking when he saw how few they were. "Was the rest of your party...?" He could not bring himself to complete his question – the silence was all he needed as answer.

"Let's get out of here," Ballade insisted, turning to his captain and Crash for support in his decision that giving up the dragon was the only way.

However, Kouma was not convinced. "Handing over the dragon would bring disaster to all of Rune-Midgard, not just this one kingdom."

"Exactly!" King Stockholm sniffed as he tore some more singed threads from his robes, "I'm not leaving my dragon, and it's your sworn duty to protect me, so you have to protect _it_ to protect _me_." He nodded, satisfied he had won the argument.

"Brave words for a coward," Ballade muttered. "You wouldn't be saying that if we weren't here to save your sorry–" He cut himself off and looked away from Quick's admonishing glare.

"You'd best be glad he didn't hear that," he whispered to him.

"Very well," Kouma spoke up, straightening his back and tightening his grip on his sword's hilt, "Crash, you guard the door we just came from. Quick will watch the gate to make sure nothing followed him. Ballade, you and I will guard the king and the dragon." He ignored Ballade's snort of contempt as he and the other knights took their positions. "They'll find this room eventually, so we must be ready for them."

Crash nodded and turned to take his position by the doorway leading back to the lift, but he jumped back with a startled yelp as something flashed in front of him, and an axe crashed into the floor just inside the room. He instantly recognized the axe as belonging to one of the lost members of his party – one of the blacksmiths who had been separated from the rest. "Captain, it's Magnet's axe!" he called over his shoulder before stepping forward and whistling down the dark hallway before him. "Magnet! Are you down there?" He stooped to pick up the axe, and when his fingers brushed the wooden grip a burst of light erupted from the weapon. Ballade cried out his friend's name and started to run to him, but the blonde knight was gone – only a few spatters of blood remained where his body had disintegrated upon contact with the enchanted weapon.

"Crash!" Quick cried. Kouma reached around to grab King Stockholm's wrist and pull him more securely behind himself, his free hand holding his sword steady. Ballade and the king could not tear their eyes away from where Crash had once stood, their gazes unwavering as chills of dread flowed through them.

"The knight...in one blow..." It was all King Stockholm could say, his voice shaking as much as his body.

Kouma muttered in a failed attempt to still his own voice, "Only three of us left. If they can kill one knight so easily..."

The humans all shielded their eyes with a chorus of surprised yelps as a bright white light suddenly flooded the room for a brief moment, and a new form appeared on their right side. Kouma was the first to recover from the stinging light and also the first to react to the newcomer, tightening his hold on King Stockholm's wrist and steadying his sword once more. The other two remaining fighters also tightened their grips on their weapons, wiping all emotion from their expressions so the invader would not see how frightened they were.

Out of the shadows of the unlit wing of the room came a figure adorned in a long, black satin coat, the inside fabric the color of blood. Jet black hair was smoothed back neatly past pointed ears, white, lacy frills gracing his chest. Folded tightly against his back were large, bat-like wings, the same stark black as his clothes. He did not walk, but his wings did not move either. Still, he glided across the stone floor on cold air from the outside, keeping his distance from the crusader's sword, exuding a feeling of amusement as if he was toying with them.

"Greetings," the invader spoke, "You may as well surrender now – you have no hope of defeating us. We are far superior to you fleshlings, and you will fall. It would be in your best interest to make it easy on yourselves."

Quick shook his head, logic wanting to deny what he could clearly see – wanting to tell him he was not seeing what was truly before him. This creature was not like the ones which had set fire to the castle. They could not speak their language, much less form proper sentences. "I thought...I thought the Demon Race was only a legend!" he gasped after finding his voice again, cringing when his statement elicited a hissing mix of a cough and a wheezed laugh from the winged creature.

"And yet here I am in front of you," he responded as he glided around so he floated in front of the doorway leading back to the lift platform, leaving the humans with their backs to the dragon and the one doorway with which they could use to escape. "I don't have much time right now, so shall I get to the point? I want that thing behind you – the 'dragon', I think is what you called it. Will you hand it over easily, or shall I take it by force?"

The will to survive collided with the will to protect the decayed form in the cavern behind them, fear shooting through already frayed nerves like a needle driving into a vein. Cold sweat of terror began to bead on fevered skin in the seconds between the Demon's statement and the outburst which followed.

"Yes!" King Stockholm blurted as he tore his hand free of Kouma's and dodged around to the front. He clasped his hands together and crawled in submissive fear toward the Demon. "Yes, take it! Just let me live!"

"No, majesty!" Kouma cried, "You mustn't!" He reached forward to grasp at the king's robes but jerked back with a startled gasp when he was blinded by the same burst of light which had enveloped Crash. When the crusader opened his eyes once again, all that was left of the king was a splash of blood and a few tatters of his robe drifting to the floor.

"I'm sorry," the Demon taunted them sarcastically, his hissing laugh echoing in the room. "All I can give you in return is a painless death."

"You _bastard_!" Ballade roared in outrage and took a small step back when the winked creature turned to face him, the sight suddenly blocked by Kouma's back as he stood between his remaining knights and the Demon. "Captain!"

"Ballade, Quick, get out of here!" he commanded, holding his sword steady in front of him with both hands as the Demon slowly glided toward them, "You must escape and let everyone in Rune-Midgard know what happened here!" Ballade started to protest, but a hand rested on his arm and gripped his tunic tightly. He gave one last glance to his captain and a heated, hateful glare to the monster in black before he turned and ran from the room with Quick, ran toward the one escape left in the castle.

"Alright, you monster," Kouma spoke calmly at the creature, surprised at how level his voice was. "If you want them, you'll have to go through me." The hissing laugh once again violated Kouma's ears as the Demon responded gleefully.

"Gladly. This should prove entertaining."

---

The back hallway of the castle was almost as cold as the blizzard outside. Now the battering wind frequently blew snow in on the long, red carpet from the open gate, ice beginning to coat the front stone tiers which stretched up to the night-darkened ceiling. Smoke from fires in other areas of the castle had blackened portions of the snow near the gateway to the outside. It melted slightly part way into the hall but quickly froze once more into a thin layer of ice.

"Where did they come from?" Ballade growled as he glared ahead at the swirling snow down the corridor, "In the middle of a blizzard...it's going to be hard enough for us to get out of here – we're surrounded by water, there's only one access road...how did they _get_ here!" He hissed sharply and sighed when Quick tied a rag around a wound in his arm to slow the bleeding. "God, and now the captain is–"

"I know," Quick sighed, taking a deep breath to keep his voice from shaking, "All we can do is make sure we survive and do what the captain told us to – tell the world what happened." He checked the bandana he just tied around Ballade's arm, frowning when blood began to seep through within moments of being secured. "This is a nasty wound."

"It's not as bad as yours," Ballade argued, his voice tired. He looked down at the gash on Quick's thigh then away again. "We'll come back someday. Maybe we can get help from the sister kingdom so we can come back and kill them all. Prontera's forces are equal to our own."

"Already thinking about revenge?" Quick scoffed as he checked his own wound to make sure it had stopped bleeding.

"Of course!" Ballade answered, "We can't let these monsters get away with this. We–"

"_We_ nothing," Quick countered, "And you call yourself brave – that isn't bravery, it's stupidity."

"What are you saying?"

"You call throwing your life away bravery? You know as well as I do that we won't be able to avenge the kingdom for a while – those monsters are far too strong. If we, the elite Glast Heim Knights, were massacred, what do you think will happen if we bring another kingdom's army to take revenge? The exact same thing."

Ballade crossed his arms at his outburst and tilted his head to the side curiously. "Oh? So what do you consider bravery, mister High Swordsman?"

Quick did exactly what he expected him to – he avoided the question. "Enough chattering – let's go before that thing finds us. At least it'll be harder for him to track us once we get into the blizzard." Ballade rolled his eyes, but he agreed – they had already wasted enough valuable time just tending to their wounds behind the icy tiers. "Go ahead and check the outside. I'll watch our backs."

Ballade nodded and tightly gripped the hilt of his sword still in its sheath, hugging the wall and stone tiers as they cautiously started toward the open gate. Quick's steps dragged slightly because of his wounded leg, but he managed to maintain a distance of about eight feet between himself and Ballade. Ballade slowly stepped through the blackened snow, pressing his back against the stone wall as he carefully glanced around the corner into the snow and darkness. He hesitated a long moment before allowing himself to relax slightly.

"It's clear, Quick," he called over his shoulder as he stepped out into the blizzard and headed toward the forest which was barely visible against the dark horizon. He jumped at the sound of metal gears and chains grinding and clanking together behind him; quickly, he spun around to run back to the opening as the gate slammed shut with his remaining comrade still inside. "Quick, what are you doing!"

"I can't get out with this wound," Quick hissed in response, keeping out of sight behind the column hiding the chain wheel for the gate's pulley system and tightly gripping his once again bleeding wound.

Ballade reached through one of the grid-like openings in the iron wall separating him from his fellow knight, his voice pleading. "Open the gate, Quick! You're the one who said throwing your life away is stupidity, not bravery!"

Quick let a humorless laugh escape his throat. "There's a difference there. I fight to protect something important to me – I won't gain anything, but I won't lose anything either. Protecting something important to me isn't a waste of life. And I don't want to lose you, Ballade."

"Nor I you – open the gate!" His voice was becoming hysterical, and he had to resist the urge to cringe.

"You must tell the world what has happened here," he stated calmly, "I'm a high swordsman. Don't worry – I have no intention of dying here." A small grin crossed his face, and he risked glancing around the pillar to look at him. "That bandana I wrapped around your wound was very expensive – I can't die until I get that back," he offered in an attempt to lighten the shadows seeping nearer. Suddenly, Quick gasped and shielded his eyes from a bright flash of light just down the corridor, and he looked back up at Ballade's roar of rage.

"Ah, there you are," the voice of the Demon spoke, "You are the last humans left here. Are you ready to die with the rest?"

Quick limped to stand in front of the gate, blocking the black Demon's view of Ballade on the other side as he unsheathed his sword and turned so he was facing the monster with only half of his body exposed, his injured leg facing away from his adversary. "Have courage, Ballade!" he hissed fiercely. "Run, and don't look back!"

Ballade's voice shook as he answered weakly, forcing himself to let go of the metal gate and back away, "I promise...I promise I'll return your bandana." He spared one last glance at crimson hair flowing in the cold, wet wind before turning and fleeing through the snow.

Quick turned his full attention on the winged form before him, snarling, "You killed everyone else here, but you won't have him. Not as long as I'm still alive."

The Demon hissed his torturous laugh as he slowly glided closer to the swordsman. "It's a dead end – there's no way out." He reached forward with bloody claws, his crimson eyes shining brightly against the darkness. "Can't you see? My body is trembling with joy."

---

The dragon's empty eyes seemed to watch him since he entered its chamber. He basked in the soft, powdery glow its bones emitted, his creamy mane glistening from the still burning torches on the walls to either side and behind him. Hollow and lifeless though it appeared, he could hear its spirit fighting to awaken, pulsing like a heartbeat, and his muzzle pulled back into a smile. How fitting that the humans who dreaded them so greatly still protected the true source of their fear instead of destroying it while it remained dormant.

He sensed rather than saw or heard when his companion returned, not bothering to turn around even as the light which marked its presence shined brightly then faded again. He spoke to his companion, never taking his yellow eyes off of the skeleton, "Did you find any survivors?"

"Two, but one escaped – I lost him in the blizzard," the Vampire replied in its hushed voice.

"And the other?"

"Yes, the other...I believe I have a use for him." The winged Demon glided to its commander, also gazing upon the dragon. "Our goals are finally within reach."

"Yes..." the other answered, his voice calm despite his anticipation, "Soon, my friend. Soon."

* * *

I know I was incredibly vague with some of them, so in case you're confused, Kouma isCentaur Man, and the "Demon" is Shade Man. The furry one at the end is RO's own Baphomet.

This is supposed to be a precursor to a full blown crossover I can't get out of my head but also can't drag up the words to write. I don't want to sound like an attention whore, but I honestly can't get up the will to work on it since only one person is interested in it that I know of.

(and if you're thinking "so write EC's sequel, you fucktard!" which I'm sure some of you might be (LOL), I blame the X series on its delay. D: I hate the X series, and it's the main focus. Le sob)


	3. Shade and Burner

A/N: This one's very connected to the fall of Glast Heim snippet - this would probably take place just a few hours after that, actually. I wrote it entirely for Veji/Plantman/Plantman.EXE/whatever the hell she goes by now, and it probably wouldn't actually make it into the final product if I ever get up the will to write it.

* * *

He had to admit they were both impressive specimens; for humans, anyway. The swordsman's brown clothing signified he had mastered his duty and abilities earlier in life - a knight, most likely - and he was in the final stages of transitioning to a higher order of knighthood to become a Lord Knight. Such professions were rare, even for Glast Heim which had been the first region to begin allowing its people to further their studies and advance beyond their current abilities. Not many humans were devoted enough to their professions to want or be capable of advancing. Still, Shade had to admit he was fairly disappointed that this one was still only a swordsman - a high swordsman, but still only a swordsman. A Lord Knight would have been tremendous fun to experiment with.

Quick squirmed weakly on the rock he had been placed upon, writhing in a fitful, unbreakable slumber as Shade's power violated his mind, picking out the pieces Shade wanted to preserve and locking away the chunks he did not. He taught the human abilities he normally would have been incapable of performing and also enhanced his body. Muscles were tightened to enhance speed, bones strengthened for more durability. It was very painful if his writhing was any indication, but Shade found it somewhat entertaining. He was hurrying with this one though - he had sated his creative side with the other one, the crusader.

The crusader stood silently in the shadows, his head lolled forward from the magic still keeping him asleep. Only his torso and head were truly intact - Shade had felt especially creative with him. Both arms ended at the elbow, the forearms replaced with the long, razor sharp blade of an enormous lance on the right arm, the left adorned with a shield "welded" into place to connect with the bone. Mockingly, the shield bore the cross which signified the crest of the crusaders. His human torso ended at the waist and melted into the body of a white horse with hooves the size of the crusader's head. His armor had been dusted white by deviruchis Shade felt had nothing better to do, and a three-horned helmet now shadowed his face. Shade was rather proud of it and was considering sending his new "Lord of Death" to Nifflheim until needed.

A sharp, angry hiss tore Shade's attention away from the squirming swordsman momentarily, and he sighed in exasperation at his "pet"'s raised hackles and bushed tail. Burner could be obstinate when it came to Shade's attention, and he often regretted making him so dependent on him. It seemed like fun at the time, and the rogue Burner used to be certainly deserved it for being so cocky to think he could fight Shade alone, but it grew to be tiresome frequently.

One knee buckled slightly when Burner's head bumped it with a demanding growl, making Shade cut off what he was doing with Quick so he could glare down at his pet with his full attention. Burner just puffed up at the glare and did his best to make every strand of fur on his body from his furred hands and feet to the strip of fur between his shoulders and down his spine stand on end to show his displeasure, flattening his ears as well. It looked ridiculous with his knees tucked up under his arms so he could crouch properly. Shade had to give him credit for being so adamant though - what Burner wanted, he didn't stop being an insistent pest until he got it.

Shade finally gave in and reached down to run his fingers through Burner's hair for a moment which prompted the werewolf to push his head into the vampire's hand for more, crawling forward and arching his back to guide Shade's hand down the strip of fur over his spine where Shade begrudgingly smoothed down the fur of his tail until it was no longer standing on end. Burner's purr echoed off the cavern walls as he rubbed against Shade's legs happily, beaming the way he always did when he got what he wanted. Once Shade had had enough, he waved his hand to shoo his pet away so he could finish modifying the swordsman. Burner sauntered away, smug and satisfied for the time being and leaving behind a slightly more than annoyed Shade who glared at a snickering deviruchi. It was not exactly a secret how easily Burner could get the attention he wanted, but that did not mean Shade liked being so blatantly pushed over.

* * *

A/N: Aaaand this one probably _would_ make it into the final project. Also written mostly for Veji. And for any of you who actually play RO, yes, Quick is Doppelganger.

* * *

Water trickled slowly down blue-grey walls of stone, loosening and collecting dirt from the rocks as it flowed toward the ground to form small puddles of mud. Some water was snatched by thirsty moss and lichen clinging to the stone while more was consumed by parched red bats and flies. The upright inhabitants of the caverns ignored the water -- the undead did not need the stustinance as they were never thirsty. Fiery hooves lit moss and lichen aflame as ghostly nightmares passed the water, patrolling for their master who watched them even from further underground.

He looked to the stone ceiling, listening to the familiar snorts of nightmares and the quiet drag of undead feet from the third "level" of the caverns. Drainlairs flitted overhead and perched upon stalactites to hide inside their wings, and hunter flies buzzed by to search for the bodies of unfortunate adventurers who met their fate underground. An occasional deviruchi chittered to itself as it used a rock to sharpen its trident before dashing after the flies to join in on the feast.

The sounds were all familiar, including the way they bounced off the walls and echoed through the caverns. They were soothing to a point, calming. However, the sounds were different today. He could hear how restless his followers were from the intelligent nightmares to the simple-minded zombies. Everything could feel anticipation in the air. Even the bats and flies knew the time was finally approaching.

"Forty-one years tomorrow," he murmured, his chin resting in one hand as his other hand toyed with red hair, running his fingers through it and tracing over pointed, red-furred ears. "I'm sure Skull has found the last one by now, the last piece of our lord." He looked down into content, green eyes and felt a rumbling purr against his leg as his pet nuzzled his thigh, pale skin luminous in the dim light of the caverns. "We'll make our move soon. After all, we can't let Skull have all the fun." Shade looked down at his pet once more, running his fingers through its red hair again and making it purr and wave its long, red tail in delight. "Isn't that right, Burner?"


	4. Rock's Having a Bad Day

A/N: And something not related to RO. I...honestly don't remember what this was part of or if it was part of anything.

* * *

A tiny gun was waved at him in a pitiful attempt to seem threatening, the owner's bright yellow shell standing out amongst the dark browns, reds, and greys of the recently abandoned factory. It looked rather ridiculous and certainly was not a threat, and he could not help but just stare at it in subdued amusement. Its eyes were inordinately large, blinking stupidly at him from underneath its yellow shell as he observed it. The stark, black cross on its shell almost gave it the appearance of being a first aid 'bot, and while that _had_ been its original purpose, the miniature cannon pointed toward him certainly was not meant to aid him. Of course, it would work better if the little pile of scrap would actually _fire_ at him.

Tired of the staring contest, Rock promptly kicked it off the platform and down into the depths of the factory and continued on his way.

The interior of the factory was certainly less than inviting, and Rock had to wonder what was manufactured before it was overrun by Dr. Wily's robots only a week prior. He doubted it was anything important, but whatever it was required a lot of machinery as he could still hear gears grinding together deep within the compound despite the fact that there were no workers to operate the machinery. The humans had fled their workplace as soon as Dr. Wily's forces arrived, leaving all equipment running.

Rock yelped sharply and was knocked onto his backside when a conveyor belt suddenly began moving underneath him, catching him off guard. He growled, stumbled to his feet, and brushed himself off as the track carried him deeper into the factory, childishly glad no one had witnessed that rather embarrassing fall.


	5. Featuring: EC Blues, Terra, & Star

A/N: Written for Luna Tiger of Time Shifter. These would be in EC's second sequel (yes, it's supposed to eventually be a trilogy - HA HA) - _Eternal Requiem_ (or _Evanescence_ - I haven't decided which title I like better).

Unfortunately, I hate both of these so much, I probably won't actually use them. But hey, I get to use Terra for once. And Blues gets some screen time when he's not mindless. So, I win?

* * *

The campfire was the only illumination cutting through the darkness. The stars were hidden by clouds, and the moon had vanished for the next few days before it would slowly begin to turn once more, only a few short weeks away from calling to Hesparia's lycanthropes again. Even that one source of flickering, yellow light was almost too much for his eyes to take, and he was forced to shield them with one hand, his elbow propped on an upraised knee as he stared at the ground. He could hear Terra and Star just to his left trying to repair his sunglasses enough for him to be able to wear them. They only had to last until they arrived at the next village, but that was two more days away.

"I don't know what you're going to do in the morning," Star grumbled as the glasses fell apart in his hands again. "I can't fix this. Not without some sort of glue or something." Blues swore and idly wished the morning would never come, that the night would drown out the day until he could get his shades fixed. He liked the night, and it apparently liked him -- it was dark and surrounded him and comforted him. He did not like the moon and was greatful it was missing for now. The moon was bright and hurt his black, light-sensitive eyes. Not as badly as the sun, but it still hurt. The stars also gave him a headache, but only sometimes -- usually in the winter when the air was thin, making them shine brighter.

"Guess you'll have to pull an Elec for the next two days," Terra spoke, breaking into Blues' brooding. The oldest of the three started to look toward who spoke to him, but he immediately regretted it when the campfire blinded him, forcing him to quickly look back to the ground. Yes, he really, really preferred the night.

"What do you mean?" Blues asked once he was sure his voice would not come out as a pitiful whine.

"He wears a blindfold," came the answer. He heard a faint rustle of clothing as Terra shrugged. "You won't be able to see where you're going either way."  
"I'm not holding his hand like some stupid toddler," Star immediately snorted. Terra glared at him and tried to think of some sort of cutting response to that, but all that came out of his throat was a light "_blee_" which only made Star grin and Terra fume.

Blues had to hold back a snicker when he heard that noise. He was still getting used to that -- Terra had a habit of bleating randomly, usually when he was trying his best not to. Terra, of course, did not find it amusing in the least.

---

The wyrm's long tail slithered around the edge of the rocky ledge, wrapping around the stone so it could pull itself up from the lake just meters below. It shook water from its wings before reaching up with its forelimbs, curling its serpentine body upwards to dig its claws into the boulder resting precariously on the edge. Using its grip on the boulder as leverage, it pulled the rest if its long body up, iliciting a sharp, surprised yelp from its prey.

"You said wyrms couldn't swim!" Star yelled after giving Blues a solid slap in the back of his head.

"They _can't_," Blues snapped in response. "How was I supposed to know this thing would grab onto the ledge?" A long hiss interrupted his next remark and drew his attention back to the boulder as the wyrm's head managed to peek over the top. It was hard to see against the cloudy night sky, but there was just enough light from the full moon shining through the clouds for them to see the creature flare open its cobra-like hood, and hissing at them again and baring its long fangs. Blues looked back to Star. "Plan C." He pressed his shoulder to the large rock and began pushing as hard as he could, struggling to find firm footing as dirt and pebbles slid out from beneath his feet. "If we can push this thing over the side with the wyrm still on it," Blues managed to explain through strained panting, "then it should drag it down to the bottom of the lake."

Star swore and pressed both palms against the rock to try to help him, hissing as he pushed, "Plan C? What was Plan B?"

"To drown it!" Blues changed positions to place both palms against the boulder like Star instead of just one shoulder.

"I thought that was Plan A!"

"Plan A was to lose it in the swamp fog!"

The wyrm's tail unwound from the ledge and circled around the boulder to give it better leverage, and it managed to slide onto its chest on the top of the rock.

"What in Tartarus?" Star growled. "These things _live_ in the swamp and are _made_ to see through the fog! What kind of a Plan A was that!"

Blues jerked back, stumbling backwards a step as he narrowly avoided a fang-filled strike from the wyrm aimed at his head.

"Just shut up and push!" he snapped, putting his shoulder back to the rock. He could feel it grinding along the ground, but it wasn't moving fast enough, just inches away from the edge. The wyrm struck again as it slid further over the rock, its fangs grazing Star's arm.

_Blee!_

Blues looked up and glanced sharply over his shoulder into the fog, and his eyes widened when he saw a flash of green running toward them, splashing through the muggy water saturating the ground and rock.

_"Out of the way!"_ Terra yelled as he ran up the incline and leaped, smashing his head against the boulder to give it the last push it needed. The wyrm shrieked as the edge collapsed underneath the boulder which fell with an enormous splash. The wyrm, underneath it when it hit the lake, was dragged down with it, its long tail slowly disappearing into the dark water.

Blues just watched the ripples fade as he caught his breath, Star sitting with his legs dangling off the edge. Terra merely snorted then glared at Blues when he felt his hand on his head, ruffling his green fuzz.

"Not bad for a sheep." Blues grinned, ruffling his fleece a little more. "Maybe it's not so bad after all -- you finally have a use!"

Terra bit him.

* * *

Many kudos if you know fromwhere I ganked that entiresequence. I've been dying to use it since I was 11. 


	6. Let the Rain

A/N: This is OLLLLLLD. Like, pre-EC old. This is what I get for going through my story folder for lack of anything better to do.

* * *

The scent of blood both old and new clinged to the air, leaving the rooms and corridors smelling like a slaughter house. Years of dust covered the floor and appliances in all of the rooms from lack of use, the dust mixed with various other fluids as well as dried, flaking blood. Skull Fortress was disturbingly quiet -- the only noises that of the soft sound of footsteps and a variety of clicks and chirps in the distance broke the choking silence. Only one room was completely silent, the only sound that of the droning hum of computers.

An open stasis capsule sat nestled in a corner and an identical one sat in the opposite corner, both housing someone inside. The closed capsule was connected to a set of computers powering life support and filling the capsule with oxygen, a heart monitor silently beeping slowly. The open capsule revealed a pale-skinned figure sleeping soundly, fire red hair falling over a serene face. An ash grey jumpsuit covered him as he slept, his red armor discarded on the floor.

As a single computer flared to life with a loud beep, the sleeping android's orange eyes snapped open and he sat upright, back arched with a hissing cry. White-gloved hands gripped the sides of his capsule tightly as he straightened his back and closed his eyes. He opened his eyes again and grinned, pupils dilating.

Without another sound he slipped out of his capsule, cloth-covered feet padding slowly to the other capsule. He reached out to the closed capsule to wipe away a layer of dust from the glass panel and look inside.

An array of tubes and wires greeted him, but a human face could be seen beneath the materials, ghostly pale skin complimented by thinning grey hair and a grey moustache. Old blood stained the human's clothes, wounds bandaged and stitched closed. The android traced a finger over the glass, the gesture almost tender as his grin widened.

"Don't worry, Father...the world is almost ours...I'll catch the Rebels...and then I'll release you."

He bent to nuzzle the glass before backing away and stepping out of the room. The door slid closed behind him, and the room was silent once more.

---

Wind sailed through the landscape, the bare skeletons of leafless trees reaching high into the sky to catch the gusts and create a ghostly howling sound as clouds slowly parted to allow moonlight to shine down upon the land. Birds fluffed their feathers and huddled in their nests to keep warm, and other diurnal animals tried to sleep, constantly listening for anything abnormal in the sounds of night. A single, small campfire sliced through the darkness, small wisps of smoke trailing into the sky.

Huddled around the campfire were six forms, five asleep with one awake to keep watch over their surroundings and listening much like the animals were. The lookout huddled in his small, tattered blanket and rubbed his hands together, warming them by the fire. His breath clouded in the cool air, the wind playing with dark brown locks as he kept iridescent, blue-green eyes alert. He still had another hour or so before his shift was over, and was battling fatigue as well as he could.

He shivered and removed his blue gloves to warm his hands better, pulling the blanket tighter over blue-covered shoulders. The ghostly sounds of night were familiar, and he did not have to concentrate too hard on them to determine whether or not a sound was foreign, so he concentrated mostly on watching the foliage and keeping himself warm. He knew his helmet would keep his head warm at the least, but old blood needed to be washed off of it, and he refused to wear it while it was covered in blood and other fluids.

"Rock, why don't you get some sleep?" a soft voice spoke to his side, making him jump.

Rock sighed and turned to the speaker after calming his racing heart, replying, "It's my watch. I've still got an hour left."

"You've kept watch for five hours straight every night this week," came the admonishing response, ice blue eyes stern, "You should take a break. Both you and Elec push yourselves too hard."

Rock sighed again, shaking his head, "Freeze..."

"Come on," Freeze insisted, "You can have my blanket, and I'll take over. The cold doesn't bother me." Rock tried to protest, but decided it was no use and gave Freeze a small, thankful smile as he traded blankets with him. Rock crawled around the fire to huddle between Cut and Quick who groggily moved apart to make room for him. Elec and Crystal were sound asleep from their positions on the other sides of the fire. As Rock made himself comfortable, he glanced around the group with a small, solemn smile. He knew as soon as the sun began to rise, they would be on the road again to find a town or city that would allow them to buy supplies. They desperately needed food and mechanical supplies to repair themselves.

Rock sighed and rolled over to face the fire, wondering when the war would end. It seemed like only the day before when he wondered the same about when Dr. Wily's reign would finally end. It was hard to believe that it had only been two years since the insane scientist's supposed death. He remembered how the world had rejoiced, how celebrations had been held almost monthly to celebrate the end of Dr. Wily's reign. If only it had lasted...

The attacks had come out of nowhere. Completely out of nowhere. Everyone had been caught by surprise -- the army, the marines, the air force, even Rock and Dr. Light. Robot Masters thought to have disappeared suddenly appeared and attacked. They no longer acknowledged pain, only wanting to fulfill their new master's orders. Rock remembered fighting them...it was like fighting zombies. They no longer had a will of their own and could no longer think for themselves, as if their minds had rotted away during the months without Dr. Wily. Not only that, but their bodies also looked as if they had rotted, all of the fighting Robot Masters missing chunks of skin or tissue, metallic bone visible on some.

Rock shuddered at the memories, trying to push them aside. He had defeated this onslaught easily enough despite the fact that they had become stronger even though their numbers had dwindled to only a few dozen rather than the proud eighty-plus before Dr. Wily's defeat.

Rock had soon discovered that some of the remaining Robot Masters had escaped Skull Fortress, and not all had escaped alive. Rock had given them shelter at Dr. Light's laboratory while he tried to decide what he should do. That was when the bloodbath began.


	7. Unknown

A/N: This is also pre-EC. I still kind of like it though.

* * *

Tiny flecks of dust danced through the stale, stagnant air, floating along on the faintest of air currents before settling on the floor or shelves. Computers were covered in a thick blanket of dust, having not been touched in decades. Dust clogged the keyboards and covered the monitors. The entire area was ghostly silent, eerie, the dust barely stirred. Nothing had disturbed the silence for quite some time.

Sparks flew everywhere, accompanied by the sound of a torch cutting through metal. The darkness was cut, illuminated by the sparks and a bright orange light. The fire quickly cut through the metal wall, sliding up nearly to the ceiling before curving to the right a few feet, curving back down to the floor, and swerving to the left to connect with the beginning of the cut where the fire disappeared, sparks vanishing with it. With a sickening groan, the panel of metal fell away from the wall, crashing to the floor and disarraying the blanket of dust. Moonlight shimmered through the opening, cutting through the darkness and illuminating the dust.

A large, blue-violet boot stepped through the hole, sending up a small cloud of disturbed dust as it rested on the floor. The owner of the boot slipped through the hole in the wall easily, glancing around through the partially illuminated area. Blue-violet boots led up to large, blue-violet shin guards decorated with red slashes. Thin plates of blue metal protected the newcomer's thighs, the metal disappearing into the violet codpiece and blue body padding and violet chestplate protecting his torso. A bucket-like helmet with a T-shaped opening for him to see out of protected his head, his face shadowed.

"How does it look, sir Vile?" came a voice from behind him.

"Like a tomb," Vile answered, placing his hands on his hips as he stepped further into the darkness, "Get in here. Let's get this over with." Behind him, three forms emerged through the opening into the darkness. One wore violet and blue armor with gold trimming, blue and lilac wings flapping slowly behind him. The second walked hunched over, glancing around with a bulging, bright red eye, green armor lost in the darkness as his prehensile tail lashed behind him. The third was enormous, barely able to fit through the opening, wearing grey, red, and orange armor, his large ears flapping subconsciously.

"So...this was the final Fortress of Dr. Wily..." Vile muttered as he and his companions slowly made their way through the dark corridors, flashlights illuminating the dust-covered floor and walls, "Where he made his last stand against Rockman..."

"That's what Sigma said..." Storm Eagle replied.

"Where do you think that energy anomaly is?" Sting Chameleon asked, dropping down to all-fours for a brief moment before regretting the decision and pushing himself back to his feet again, sneezing out a cloud of dust.

"Sigma said it was one floor down, underground," Vile answered, glancing over his shoulder, "Flame Mammoth. Are you tracking it?" The large Maverick nodded.

"It's almost right below us," Flame Mammoth stated, glancing down at the small tracker in his large hand, "We need to find a ladder or something to get down there--" An explosion of bright green light blinded the Mavericks, the sound nearly deafening after the choking silence, dust and smoke clouding the corridor. As it settled, a large hole in the floor slowly became visible, and Sting Chameleon grinned.

"Done," he snickered.

"You idiot!" Storm Eagle screeched, slapping his reptilian comrade with one of his wings, "What if he hears!"

Sting Chameleon snorted in response, "Oh, please. It's not like we can't handle one _robot_."

"Quiet. Both of you," Vile commanded, "Sting, you stay up here and keep an eye out. I'll contact you on the communicator when we find the room so you can tell the others to get ready. Mammoth and Storm, come with me." Sting Chameleon nodded, and Vile dropped down to the next floor, Storm Eagle and Flame Mammoth close behind him, Flame Mammoth's bulk just barely fitting through the hole in the floor.

There was even more dust on this floor, the corridor soon becoming filled with a fog-like atmosphere. Vile held his flashlight at arm's length in front of him as he lead the way down the dust-filled hall. Storm Eagle gave up on trying to blow the dust away with his wings, realizing that flapping only made it worse.

"Here," Flame Mammoth spoke after a moment, the trio stopping in front of a large door. Vile tilted his head to one side. The half-open door certainly did not look special, but the lack of dust on the catch and the control panel beside it told him that the door was used fairly often, handprints of dried blood decorating the edges and catch of the door. "The signal's strongest in there," Flame Mammoth clarified. Vile nodded and pushed the door open the rest of the way.

Capsules lined the walls, some larger than others, one right beside the other, covering three walls with just enough space between each capsule to fit the small computer which controlled each individual capsule. The room was probably two hundred square meters in size -- it had to be in order to hold all seventy-plus capsules and their contents.

The trio of Mavericks split up to investigate all of the capsules, each contraption marked with a single, three-digit number to denote who slept inside.

"Shit, it's cold in here..." Flame Mammoth grumbled, snorting, his breath fogging the air in front of him.

"We'll have to do this one at a time," Storm Eagle stated, "The capsules are too big for us to get more than that outside." Vile nodded, contacting Sting Chameleon and signalling him to ready himself and the remaining Mavericks awaiting outside the Fortress.

"This one," Flame Mammoth spoke, drawing Vile and Storm Eagle over to him, "This one's giving off a really odd signal. The strongest here, too." Vile squeezed in between the capsule in question and its neighbor and reached up to wipe the layer of dust and half-crystalized, stagnant water from the capsule's window, putting his flashlight to the glass so he could see inside.

The light revealed hair the color of blood, alabaster skin set on a boyish face, eyes closed as he slept soundly turned slightly on his side, left hand resting by his head while his right arm was draped over his stomach. A red chestplate set with a green gem in the center rose and fell slowly in time with his breathing, the skin tight black and red jumpsuit underneath covering his arms, torso, and legs to keep him warm, the legs of the jumpsuit disappearing into large, yellow boots. Sawblades decorated his armor around the shoulders of his chestplate and around the wrists of his red gauntlets. A red helmet and facemask with a sawblade on the forehead rested beside his head.

Vile's eyes narrowed and he leaned back, looking down the capsule to the number at the bottom. "009..." he muttered, "Metal Man..." He stepped back from the capsule and nodded to his companions. Storm Eagle took the position vacated by his commander and bent down to begin unhooking the anchors keeping the capsule in place. Cables were detatched from the capsule quietly and carefully, Storm Eagle checking the cables before detaching them while Flame Mammoth continued to sweep the room and check the other capsules.

When Storm Eagle reached for the final cable, he paused, blinked, and called over his shoulder, "Sir Vile, what about the life support? Lord Sigma wants them alive."

Vile stepped over as he replied, "They're _robots_. They're not alive!"

"Then why give them life support in the first place?" Storm Eagle pointed out. Vile paused.

"...exactly what is it doing?" Storm Eagle checked before answering.

"Monitoring their heart rate--" At Vile's admonishing gaze, he corrected himself. "--fluid pump speed and filling the capsule with oxygen."

"How long do you think it will take to get the capsule out of here and to Sting, and for him to take it outside and back to the HQ to be hooked up to _our_ computers?" the violet robot asked.

Storm Eagle tapped his beak, thinking for a moment before answering, "About half an hour for transportation. Maybe an hour to get him hooked up and logged into our computers and for the life support to be hooked up...so about an hour and a half in total."

"So fill the capsule with two hours worth of oxygen and get it to Sting," Vile commanded, then turned and walked away without waiting for a reply. Storm Eagle blinked, but shook his head and stood up, tapping his claws across the dust-clogged keyboard of the miniature computer powering the life support system to the capsule.

Flame Mammoth plodded back over to Vile and reported, "I found out which ones are giving off the signals. They're all in numerical order -- Cut Man first, Aqua Man last -- and the numbers are 008, 009, 012, 018, 028, and 042."

"Six?" Vile questioned, blinking, "Sigma said there were seven." Flame Mammoth nodded.

"Yes sir, but the seventh isn't here," the massive Maverick stated, glancing down at his tracker, "It's awake somewhere in the Fortress." Vile blinked again, but shook his head.

"Take 009 to Sting and tell him to instruct the others to transport the capsule to HQ immediately," the Maverick Commander instructed, "And _they_ are to instruct whoever's responsible to hook up the capsules to life support as soon as possible and not to question me about it." Flame Mammoth nodded, handing the tracker to Storm Eagle before heaving the capsule into his massive arms and carrying it out. Vile watched him until the fire Maverick had left before turning back to Storm Eagle. "008 next." Storm Eagle nodded and unhooked 008's capsule.

Flame Mammoth carried each capsule to Sting Chameleon one at a time as they were filled with oxygen and unhooked from their life support units, 008 following 009, then 018 and 042. Vile and Storm Eagle walked down the long line of capsules quietly, hoping to find 012 and 028 and get them back to HQ soon. They had spent too much time at the Fortress already, and Storm Eagle's wings were starting to ache from a feeling of dread that refused to be ignored.

A horrific bellow sounded far off down the hallway outside the room, a bellow of agony that could have only come from Flame Mammoth.


	8. I Am

A/N: Modesty aside, even though this is at least 4 years old, if not 5, I still like this. I was going to do a novelization of all the games (or at least 1-6) to tie in to _Endless Waltz_, but, obviously, that fell flat around the time EW did. This would have been the prologue to 2's.I still like how this turned out though.

* * *

A dull, throbbing pain welcomed him as it had every time he had awakened since a time farther back than he could remember properly. His eyes cracked open, and took in the dark, blurry, barely recognizable surroundings. His nerves twitched where they lay on the floor, sparks spewing slightly from his old wounds. His self-repair circuitry was useless, deactivated. His left hand was gone, severed at the middle of his metal radius and ulna "bones". His chest still had the broken off part of a scissor-like blade embedded in it, right in his sternum. His stomach was cut open, wires spilling out and sparking each time he attempted to move, and each attempt unsuccessful as it had been since he had been put in such a condition. Bluish-green lubricant stained his red and black armor at each wound, dried lubricant staining the ground. He had not moved – not been able to move – since the battle.

How long had it been? A week? Two weeks? A month?

A year?

He did not know. He wondered how long he would be lying there, propped up against the wall, head rolled back and immobile, eyes staring up at a dark room he could not remember entering. He wondered how long it would be before he would finally die and be relieved of his misery.

Was he condemned to lie there forever? In pain and suffering with no escape? He wished he could give his body the strength to shift at least a little so the paralyzing, broken blade in the small of his back would not be so uncomfortable, but he could not move. His spine was severed.

He closed his eyes to return to the darkness, to block everything out and return to the blessed, numb darkness.

A soft sound awakened him, and his eyes snapped open, wide. Had he been hearing things?

There it was again. Someone was climbing a ladder – the ladder to the room he was trapped inside. Was he saved? Or doomed? Either way, he welcomed whatever – or whoever – came.

The darkness shrouded the newcomer, but all he could do was stare at it, unsure whether it was male or female in the blurry blackness of the room. It shuffled towards him, muttering to itself before noticing him for the first time.

"Incredible..." the newcomer said, astonishment in its voice, "You're still coherent!" It surveyed him, pawing at him, looking him over. Who was it? What was it? Human? Robot? He could not tell. "Yet you're in worse shape than the others. How are you still awake?" He just stared at the shadow, eyes half open. What color were his eyes? What did he look like? What was his name? He could not remember. The shadow shook its head. "No matter. You will be a challenge to repair, but I will see to it. It might be best not to move you." With that, it turned away and called down the ladder. Its words were lost to the echoes of the room, indistinct. He was not sure if he should panic or not even though it would do no good.

Something else came up the ladder, carrying what looked to be a toolbox. The second figure stayed quiet while the first went back over to him and opened up the toolbox, repairing him.

Slowly, feeling came back to all of his joints, all of his extremities, everything but his nonexistent left hand. The broken blades were removed, and the holes left behind were repaired. The second shadow used alcohol cleaning pads to clean his dirty, dusty face and armor. His spine was repaired, and he could feel his legs again all the way down to his toes hidden beneath his boots. Yet even though he was completely mobile again, he could not bring himself to move. Something in his robotic brain was...what was the word? Traumatized – yes, that was it. Traumatized from "living" with the pain for so long. He could not bring himself to move nor speak, and even as he was finally completely repaired and cleaned, he still only stared up at his saviors, confused and disoriented, vision still blurry, mind still unclear. Who was he? Who were they?

The first shadow stroked its chin, confused as it muttered to itself, "Hmm...all that time still coherent while he was that damaged must have affected his mental state in some way. Looks like he's going to be an even bigger challenge than I thought."

"What should we do?" the second shadow asked, speaking for the first time. He still could not tell who they were, what they were, or whether they were male or female.

"Take him back to the Skull Fortress. I can do a better job there, and I can replace that arm." The second shadow bent and picked him up without trouble, and he flopped in its arms, limp, but he managed to lift his head just enough to rest it against the figure's shoulder, staring ahead at nothing. His left arm dangled to his side, nerves twitching. There was a bright flash of white, and suddenly they were inside a bright room, so bright it hurt his eyes at first. He could see past the shadows, but everything was even blurrier than before.

He was set on a table. He vaguely remembered his arm being replaced, barely acknowledged being asked to move his fingers to test the new arm. He still could not bring himself to speak and could not remember anything. Who he was, where he was, where he had been, why he had been there. It was all fragmented and blurry, useless and confusing.

"What is your name?" the first figure demanded, voice barely audible. He could not make himself speak. "What is your name?" The question was repeated. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. "Damn it, answer me!" The figure was growing impatient. "What is your name?"

"I...don't...know..." he finally managed to say, almost surprised at hearing his own voice.

"Damn..." the figure swore, "Memory block's damaged, too..."

Suddenly, he remembered. It lit like a lightbulb in the back of his mind. Everything else was still blurry, including his vision, but he remembered his name.

"I..."

"I am..."

The figure looked at him, expecting.

"I am...Elec Man..."


	9. 10 Years After

A/N: This is/was the prologue to EC's sequel, _10 Years After_ (song titles yet again - it's really only been about 6 months). I'm having such a hard time deciding what I want to do with it though, I'm not sure I'll end up using this, so into the bits and pieces it goes.

* * *

The world was created in a contest among the gods to see which was most powerful. Horus created the planet, the moons, and the stars, and Isis breathed life into the world, pulling at the ground to form mountains, digging crevices to form canyons and rivers, and mixing together earth and water to create plant life. Sekhmet in turn used her power to place animals and insects among the trees and in the seas and also placed her greatest creation, humans, on the land to govern the lesser creatures -- those not gifted with the intelligence she granted the humans. Isis, impressed with Sekhmet's achievement, granted her fellow goddess' children with magic to aid them in the harsh world and to protect themselves against the more vicious creatures.

Anubis, seeing his opportunity to surpass Sekhmet, gathered four humans together and granted them intelligence surpassing even their fellow humans -- the gift of technology. Thus created, the Scions grouped together to invent tools with which to aid those not gifted with their ability, creating sturdier plows for farms, tools for shearing sheep, and better methods of protection from harsh winds and rain during the stormy seasons, particularly by the sea. Soon after, the Scions congregated and agreed to collaborate on the creation of another species of creature, one which would also aid the other humans but would be able to withstand hardships and attacks of nature which frail humans could not.

Thus, the first robot was created, and after him, many more. The Scions granted them souls so they would be able to think for themselves and make proper judgements based on many different circumstances. These strange, metallic creatures lived amongst the humans in peace for decades before a tragedy disturbed the balance of power.

Sekhmet, enraged for nearly a century at Anubis' meddling with her creations, attacked the Fourth Scion, tainting his mind and setting the stage for what would then on be known as the War of the Scions.

The insanity induced by magic which warped the Scion's mind soon spread outward, tainting his creations as well as the other Scions'. They began to lust for blood and first attacked each other, staining the ground red and black before they realized humans were much easier to kill. Unable to run fast enough to escape nor fight for their lives, humans fell by the hundreds, becoming food for the mad robots which bathed in the blood spilled by their claws, and their Soulgivers could not destroy them fast enough. The cycle of death continued before the only robot which escaped the insanity finally stepped forward to put a stop to the war.

The First, the only one still sane, leapt into the battle to protect the defenseless humans. He fought hand-to-claw against the mad ones, defeating them one at a time either by killing them himself or by holding them still long enough for one of the other three Scions to destroy its soul and free it from its mental turmoil. The humans gave him the title of Peacekeeper as he continued to fight for them for nearly a year before the insanity finally claimed him as well.

Finally, Anubis stepped in to right Sekhmet's wrongdoing. He gathered all of the tainted robots and humans including the eternally insane Fourth Scion and sealed them all onto an island near the center of the Inner Sea. A barrier kept them inside where he left them to recover on their own or kill each other until only one remained -- whichever came first. The remaining three Scions set about rebuilding everything which was destroyed during the war, gathering Healers from throughout the world to aid those still suffering.

Nearly thirty thousand years passed, and most of the world's inhabitants forgot about the existence of the Forbidden Island, and even fewer remember why it was isolated from the rest of the world. Only history books and legends remain--

---

Centaur scowled as he slammed the book shut, sending forth a cloud of dust which made both of his cats sneeze and jolt awake from the nap they were enjoying in his lap. He reached down idly to give them both an ear rub as he glared out of the window which pointed north. There was an autumn fog on the sea, and it had seeped into the port side of Khana. It misted his windows, but the sea was still partially visible.

After a moment, he tossed the book onto his desk with a disgusted snort. _I don't know why I keep reading that,_ he growled to himself. _It always pisses me off..._ The nudge of a cold, wet nose against his right arm told him he needed to stop staring out the window. He had work to do and not much time left to do it. "Alright, up," he told the disappointed felines in his lap and stood when they had both finished stretching and yawning and acting as if it was their idea to leave. His schnauzer began hopping on her back legs, hoping it was her turn to be held now. Centaur just looked down at her for a moment before he decided to humor her for a few minutes and carried her to the next room where he had begun packing.

"I need to travel light...there's no telling what'll happen," he muttered to himself as he set the dog down on his bed where she promptly began bouncing again and ultimately fell off the edge. "It's a good thing I've got some really understanding neighbors." He shook his head and glanced at a small table where he had begun writing a note. That needed to be sent before he did anything else. He quickly finished writing it and left his house to deliver it to Khana's messenger service which would send the note by hawk to its destination. Hawks were more expensive than pigeons which were the usual messenger birds, but it was faster, and the message needed to be delivered as soon as possible.

_I'm going to need backup_, he sighed inwardly as he started back home to finish packing. _Just in case..._


End file.
